An Occurrence at Briarcliff Manor
by paws-up-high
Summary: My first story. (: Inspired by the structure of "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" by Ambrose Bierce. (And the name as well) I guess you could say somewhat AU. What is going on in Lana's life? Not even Lana herself could tell you.
1. The Affair

Hey guys! This is my first attempt at a fanfic, so don't expect too much! Hope you enjoy it!

WARNING: Sexual content. Adult themes & language.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own American Horror Story or any of the characters.

SPOILERS: None.

* * *

As she raced down the highway, Lana thought to herself silently, as the 1964 hit, "House of The Rising Sun", filled the silence.

_It's been the ruin of many poor boys, and God, I know I'm one._

"Man, I really hope she appreciates this. These past few days have been so stressful and she deserves a break. And that's what I plan to give her." She slightly smirked and looked at the seat next to her, which was occupied by a dozen of white roses, with a few pink hyacinths mixed throughout. Next to that, sat a small white box wrapped in a shiny, lavender ribbon, her lover's favorite color. Pulling out a cigarette to calm her nerves, she lit the end and continued on her journey.

_Oh mother, tell your children not to do what I have done. Spend your lives in sin and misery…._

Lana pulled into the parking lot behind the building and parked in the shadows to ensure that nobody would see her or her car. She spotted another single car in the lot, but quickly recognized its familiarity. Collecting the gifts, Lana strutted into the night and headed towards the building. Once inside, she carefully tip-toed around, making sure to leave no audible traces of her presence. After all, it was supposed to be a surprise, wasn't it?

Right before she walked through the door to begin the affair, Lana collected her thoughts, put on the most seductive expression she could, and arched her back against the door frame in the sexiest manner possible.

"Excuse me, Ms. Peyser, but I've been a bad girl, and they've sent me to you for a punishment…", she whimpered in a child-like voice.

"Who's ther…?" the woman turned around. "Oh my god, Lana! You scared me half to death! I thought you were some psychopathic serial killer or something!"

"Well, I suppose that's double the punishment for disturbing the teacher."

"Stop it! What are you doing here? You _know_ that we shouldn't be seen together, here, like this, especially out this late and alone!"

"Chill out, baby! Actually, that's why I got you this…"

Lana whipped out the shiny, reflective box and handed it to her partner. Wendy then proceeded to open it. A smile lit upon her face. In it, sat the most perfect, tightly rolled joint she had ever set her eyes on.

"Oh babe, you shouldn't have. Thank you, so much, but you know damn well I can't smoke this here!" Wendy exclaimed.

"I don't see any reason you can't. The kids are gone for the weekend. And nobody is around. Seems harmless to me." Lana winked and pulled out the bouquet from behind her back.

"You sure know how to win a woman over." Wendy said giggling, "Maybe that's why you're such a good reporter."

"Or maybe it's because I know how to get the _scoop_!" As she said this, Lana ran over to Wendy and gracefully scooped her up into her arms. Wendy then planted a small kiss on Lana's cheek.

"Baby, the blinds…"

"I got it", she reassured.

While still carrying the love of her life delicately in her arms, Lana swiftly bounded across the room and secured the shield protecting their visibility from society.

"You know," Lana went on, while setting Wendy on the desk, "Every time I see you, I get this feeling. I don't know what it is, but it burns inside of me. And every time I'm near you, it manifests together and grows. But it lets me know that, everything I can do, I can do because you love me. I love that feeling. And I love you."

"You're honestly the sweetest, most sincere person I've ever met in my entire fucking life." Wendy uttered as she lit up the joint, puffing on it to fill her body with the THC. She trailed on. "This stuff always makes me _sooooo_ horny."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to fix that…" The words seemed to roll right off Lana's tongue, like she's done this a million times before.

"Ugh, I don't know, Lana."

"Oh come on, Wen! I just thought you'd like to shake things up a bit!" She grinned with her bedroom eyes. "Plus, I still have to give you your third surprise."

"Lana, you know I don't need any gifts. Having you is plenty!"

"Nonsense! Plus, this is more of a mutual gift." She winked and started to undo her long, tan coat. As soon as she finished fiddling with the buttons, Lana dropped the coat to the floor, revealing some very lacy, black lingerie that hugged her perfectly in all the right areas, an outfit Wendy had never seen before.

"When did you…?"

"Shh. Shh. Shh," Lana put a finger on her luscious lips, "No more talking. Unless you want your hips to do that." They kissed. It was like nothing ever before. It was filled with lust. Passion. Desire. Love. Want. Need. Lana then began to slowly remove Wendy's fashionable green dress.

"I want you _now_," Wendy moaned quietly in her lover's ear. Just then, Lana ripped away the remaining articles of clothing attached to the woman. She stared at her in awe. Lana loved the way Wendy looked naked. Well, she loved the way Wendy looked no matter what, but especially when she was naked, so she could see the beautiful curves of her flawless flesh.

"What are you looking at?", questioned Wendy.

"Oh nothing, only the most perfect woman on the planet. And you know the best thing? She's all mine."

"She sure is…", Wendy promised. And with that, Lana jumped on top of the desk that Wendy had been sitting on and straddled the fragile little body that was the most precious possession to her. She started kissing the perfect being, massaging her tongue with Wendy's. Trailing kisses down her body, from her neck, to between her firm breasts, and eventually to her navel, Lana finally reached the Y intersection of her partner's body. She dragged her tongue along W's inner thigh, sending quakes throughout her entire body. At this point, Lana knew they were inseparable. Nothing or nobody could stop them. When her mouth hit the slit in between Wendy's legs, she began to trace a love letter addressed to Wendy with only her tongue. Every now and again, Lana would look up to see the expression of true bliss on her girlfriend's face, all while hearing the glorious groans she made, which let her know to keep up the good work.

_W-e-n-d-y-,-I-w-i-l-l-a-l-w-a-y-s-l-o-v-e-y-o-u-,-n-o-m-a-t-t-e-r-w-h-a-t-,-f-o-r-e-v-e-r-a-n-d-e-v-e-r-,-b-a-b-e-.-T-e-a-m-o-,-L-a-n-a_

As she traced out that last 'a', Wendy reached her peak. Lana adored how precious she appeared when she orgasmed. She curled her toes and arched her back as if there was a spike beneath her. Thrusting her pelvis forward and towards the ceiling, her climax came to an end. Lana sat there longingly observing the minute details of the woman enjoying pure ecstasy in front of her. But something seemed off. Wendy's moans turned into deep groans.

Groans turned to whimpers.

Whimpers to cries.

And cries into screams.

"Wendy? WENDY! WENDY, WHAT'S WRONG!?" Lana freaked.

"LANA, HELP ME!"


	2. A Little Game

Glad you guys liked the first chapter so much! Here's the next installment. xoxox -Brittani

WARNING: Sexual content. Rape scenes. Adult themes & language.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own American Horror Story or any of the characters.

SPOILERS: Uhm, maybe up through "Dark Cousin". Not too much though.

* * *

Lana awoke, startled, like a deer in headlights. Sweaty, shaky, and alarmed, she rolled over in her bed to reach for the wooden frame that held her favorite picture. Whenever she had a nightmare, which happened somewhat frequently after hearing some of the graphic stories her coworkers told her, Lana would stare at the photo of Wendy she had taken herself. W was naked, only her soft, porcelain breasts were covered by the white sheets of their bed. Her hair was a mess, an obvious indication they had just finished making love, along with the cigarette in her hand, which she had after almost everything, especially sex. Lana vividly recalled that day. She cheekily grinned, but stopped after something caught her eye. Curiously observing the background, a quick realization hit her. _When did her and Wendy's always white bedroom walls suddenly become covered with bricks?_

"When did Wen…?" She thought aloud.

"Oh, what are you whining about now?" A smooth, yet deep and gravelly voice questioned from what seemed to be above in the room. Two things immediately appeared to Lana.

One, _why is there a man's voice in her house?_ And two, _how is there a voice coming from above if there's only one level to the house?_

Creaks ached from the ceiling, getting farther away the longer they seemed to go on. Lana didn't dare move a muscle or make a sound, as she didn't want to risk the stranger coming back. After she felt that the mysterious visitor had left the vicinity, Lana decided to open her eyes and take a look at what was really going on. _Was this some sort of sick joke Wendy had played on her?_ She liked messing around with Lana, partially because she knew it'd most likely end up in hot, passionate sex once Lana came around, but mostly because she felt it helped relieve a little stress from Lana's hectic life. Lana rubbed her eye sockets to clearly focus on her surroundings after shutting them so tightly.

_What was this place?_

She had surely never been here before. Throwing the covers off of her and on to Wendy's side, Lana kicked her legs over the side of the bed, usually signaling the start of her day. But she was stopped mid-swing by a gentle tug. She looked down to discover that her ankle was strapped down by a thick, rusty chain.

Panic. Despair. Captured. Defeat.

All these ran through her head. Terror shot through her veins as she started to search around the room for something to break the awful binds constraining her body to the bed. That's when the shadow appeared in the corner of her eye.

"Are you _really_ trying this _again_?" It had said, in the same voice from earlier.

"Who's there? Who the _fuck _are you? Where the _hell _am I?" Lana roared in utter dismay.

"What? Did you hit your head against _another_ door? Or are you just trying to play a little game with me? Cause I _love_ games! Ooh, what is this one called? 'Damsel in Distress?'" Toyed the shadow, at the top of the stairs.

To possibly get answers to some of her questions, Lana played along, "Well, maybe if you get down here, I'll show you how to play."

"Be right there, mommy!" The voice had called.

_Mommy? What the fuck?_, she thought. The silhouette started to descend from the top of the stair case.

Step.

Step.

Step.

As the light filtered onto the figure, a face crept from the abyss of the blackness. His jet black hair, black as night, had been slicked back. A little 5 o' clock shadow was showing upon his chiseled chin. The strange man also wore glasses with silver frames, Lana had noted. Time seemed to pass in slow motion.

With each step down the stairs growing ever closer to her, more and more details popped up about him.

Step. Step. Step.

The man wore black dress pants but must have taken his jacket off because he only remained in a white wife beater. But oddly, this gave him a sophisticated look. Sane looking, yet his eyes said otherwise, considering the way he stared at her. He wasn't muscular; toned, rather. Lana thought if things got overly confrontational, she would be able to hold her own. Definitely not the strongest man on the planet. His cocky strut down the stairs refused to acknowledge this fact, however.

Step. Step.

He almost reached the bottom of the flight.

Step.

As soon as he hit the foot of the bed, a name popped into Lana's head.

_Oliver._

It just seemed to fit perfectly. She had not known how she guessed his name, but she was absolutely sure of it.

"So, Mama Winters, how do we play your game?" 'Oliver' asked. His sarcasm now overshadowed his benevolent façade.

Lana retorted, "First, you have to answer some of my questions."

"Ugh, fine. Such a strict mother…." He mumbled.

"Why do you keep calling me your mother?"

"Do you suffer from amnesia or something? You agreed to it, silly!"

"Stop acting like a child! It's overly disturbing."

"But mom…" His impression of a child whined.

"Stop. Stop it, now! Or I'll bash your face in!"

"Wow. Alright, if it will settle you down. Jeez. And everyone says that women can't be aggressive." He chuckled. "Now what exactly do you want, _La-na_?"

"I want you to tell me exactly where in the hell I am and why. How long have I been here?" Lana pleaded.

"You really must have amnesia," he started to wonder, "You really don't recall anything?"

"Obviously not." Lana said snobbishly.

"Well, excuse me. Do we have to be so snippy? But let's see, it's been about two astonishing weeks now and I couldn't be any happier. I _knew_ you were _the one_. So, I just _had_ to bring you back to my house and here we are now." He took a seat on the bed, "Anything else?"

"How hasn't Wendy found me by now?"

"She took a little…_vacation_."

"Where is she? Where is Wendy? _My Wendy._ Where is she, goddamn it!" Lana's voice strained as she hostilely searched for answers. "Tell me right fucking now, Oliver!"

"I'm thoroughly surprised you even remember my name. But before I disclose anything else, have a cigarette. I hate dealing with belligerence." He extended a pack towards Lana. She reluctantly grabbed it and quickly pulled one out. Oliver jumped off the bed to retrieve a box of matches. He struck the stick against the flint and held the flame to a cigarette of his own and walked over to repeat the same with Lana. When he sat down again, she saw that he had moved closer than before.

"Better?" Oliver questioned.

"I guess. Now tell me, why me?" Lana declared coldly.

"I told you already. As soon as I saw you in there, something just clicked with me. Something that I've never felt with any of the others. So I needed to have you. Here. With me. Forever. I needed you, _mommy_. And now I have you. All to myself."

Lana grunted to stop herself from muttering anything that might cause a scene. She took a long drag of her cigarette, "You never told me what happened to _her_." She felt that Wendy's name was too sacred to be used in his presence, since he appeared to be hiding something, something that stuck 'unworthy' to his name.

"We played your game, now it's time to play mine before you get any more answers…" A capricious smirk lit up on his face, instantly shifting the atmosphere to a heavier, darker mood. Oliver shimmied adjacent to Lana, swiping the half-burned stick of tobacco right from her frigid, bony fingers.

"Hey! I wasn't finished with that!" She wanted to savor every second of it, not knowing when she'd have the chance to indulge in another.

"I'm just being kind. If you have that while we're playing my game, you might burn yourself. Plus, I'm looking out for myself, as well. Wouldn't want you to pull any fast ones, would we?" He walked over to his work table and grabbed something unidentifiable from Lana's perspective. Just as quickly has he left, Oliver returned to Lana on the bed, practically lying on her lap. "Ready to play?" He was almost ecstatic now. Lana had been thoroughly terrified at this point. _Oh god, how did I get myself here? What _happened_ to me?_, she contemplated over and over.

Oliver started to slither up her body, "I'll take that as a 'yes'." His flush skin contrasted heavily against hers as he reached for her wrists. Slowly moving her arms above her skull, Oliver positioned himself atop her frail frame, pinning her wrists to the headboard. In one of the most gracious motions that Lana had seen from him, he placed a small kiss on her jaw. Every second or two, the kisses got closer to her full lips. When he arrived at her mouth, Oliver leaned into her, making up for the lack of desire on Lana's end. Electricity surged through his breath, but the circuit failed to continue when it entered her cheeks. "Get the fuck off of me", she screeched, pushing at him, but it did no good considering he was larger than her, "I'm a _lesbian_. I don't _want_ you."

Oliver was fed up. This was his "play time", which meant this was no time for messing around with him. So he pulled out the concealed object, a rather large knife, held it against her throat and yelled, "NO. _You_ shut the fuck up and let me have my fun. Or I WILL kill you." He continued, "And I wouldn't want to hurt my poor mother…." Oliver propelled himself to her soft, vulnerable face.

"_Please_." Lana pleaded, begged, for her security.

"What the fuck did I say? Shut the hell up! Now!"

She complied, knowing nothing could stop him, so she decided it was better to give in to his dirty demands rather than to put herself in danger, or better yet, end up dead. The sound of bed springs rasping were followed by zips coming from his trousers. The pants flew to the ground as Oliver started to remove his white boxers, a color that definitely didn't stand for his purity. Only in his tank top and socks, he positioned himself parallel to the once tenacious reporter, turned feeble prisoner of captivity. Lana laid there expressionless, motionless, and thoughtless, as if her soul had jumped straight from her body. Oliver pushed her blue nightgown up her thighs and spread her legs to reveal her sanctified chamber of sex. As soon as he entered her, all sensations flooded her being at once. Thoughts raced unrelentlessly inside._ This is disgusting! I wish I were dead. How can I make him stop? How can I kill this sick bastard?_

Grunts went on for what seemed to be hours, but truly only lasted minutes. Lana looked up at the head above hers while the head's body thrusted back and forth, back and forth, over and over, nonstop.

"I love you so much, _mommy_." Oliver managed to force out in between jabs at her pelvis.

The image of his silver frames would be forever burned into her memory. His sweaty, hairy arms above her shoulders suddenly stopped shaking. She knew what had happened. He had come. Oliver then deliberately moved his head next Lana's. She felt the hot breath nudging her eardrum, so she closed her eyes, hoping to block out this feeling.

With a grin, he murmured,

"_I killed her."_

Lana immediately sat up.

"WENDY!"


	3. An Inside Job

This one is a shorter one for me, as I haven't had time to upload a new chapter lately. (fuck track practice)

But thank you guys for your patience. (:

WARNING: Adult themes & language. Some mentions of rape.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own American Horror Story or any of it's characters.

SPOILERS: None, that I can think of.

* * *

Oliver's arms grabbed for Lana's shoulders to shake her from her unresponsiveness, while atop her tense body. Tugging vigorously, his rough voice shouted into her face, cutting off her screams, "Lana. Wake up! Do you hear me, Lana? Wake up, goddamn it!"

Rising from unconsciousness, her eyes fluttered open. Blurred sight peeped from the small cracks in her vision. The first thing Lana saw once she finally was able to focus was a small glimmer off of the silver wire frames above her. The same frames worn by the man who tried, rather, actually did, rape her. She looked into the frames, into the brown eyes of her rapist. They remained in the same position as the last time she had her eyes open, which frightened her even more. Gaining full composure, she looked at the rest of Oliver to see he had somehow become fully dressed, wearing the same black trousers he previously wore before the assault. But this time, a white dress shirt and red tie replaced the wife beater, along with his suit coat actually being worn. _Funny_, she had thought, as she can clearly recall that his weight had remained on her body the entire time. So how was he able to retrieve extra clothes and put them on without dismounting her? She remained clueless. Lana also noticed how smooth his chin had suddenly become, when she remembered that stubble had previously resided there, just a few moments ago.

_What the hell is happening?_, she contemplated. Oliver still remained directly in front of her face. "Get the fuck off of me, you psychotic filthy, pig!" She prepared to spit into his eyes, but he stopped her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. If you begin to get hostile, I will be forced to sedate you and send you to isolation. And I doubt they'll let me continue treating you after that. So if you want my help, I suggest you swallow right now." Oliver's voice seemed different. It wasn't rough anymore. Still deep, but now soft and almost with a soothing tone, much unlike her other memories of him. This voice now seemed to genuinely want to _help_ her, not cause her demise. She coincided with him. After he saw that Lana had come to her senses and swallowed one of the only physical weapons she had left, he loosened her arm and leg restraints. "Thank you," she murmured graciously, "Now, what's going on?"

Once again, Lana begun to note her surroundings. Instead of the beige bricks that covered the walls, thick slabs of concrete colored the room grey and sealed it. The bed that belonged to her and Wendy had been replaced by one that you might see in a hospital, or even worse, an asylum. The thin, dirty mint-colored sheets were extremely rummaged around, a result from all of Lana's wailing around. There were no stairs, just a large steel door as the only way in and out of the room. No windows, except for the one on the door, which was guarded by thick steel bars, as well. As fast and as many times Lana had whipped her head back and forth looking around to gain insight, she might as well have gotten whiplash. The only thing that had remained the same was the ugly, pale blue nightgown she had worn. _Ugh, of all the things that have been changing, why couldn't this be one of them?_, she had wondered as she rubbed the grubby material between her fingers. Lana was full of many components, and being fashionable was a big one. She always loved to look her best, even if she was just running out to the local farmer's market.

"You done?" Oliver began to speak, "Because if you want to spend all day playing 'I Spy', I can just go…"

"No," Lana pleaded, "_Please_, just tell me what's going on. I can't seem to remember anything. No interruptions from me, scout's honor." She held up her middle three fingers next to her cheek.

"That makes perfect sense. I wouldn't expect you to after how deep you went," he waited for a response, with none he went on, "Well, while we were doing our talk therapy, I actually got you to slip into a semi-hypnotic state. While you were there, you must have hit a road bump in your memory, an emotionally or physically traumatic event in your past. It was so unbearable for you because your subconscious mind recreated the event into reality. Your body couldn't tell the difference between the two states of mind, reality and fantasy, so it decided to react to which was more vivid at the time, which was the sequence of the hypnotic state you remained in. Thus, overstressed and utterly confused, you started to go into shock, albeit emotional shock, and began to experience seizures. Although, I'm fairly sure Sister Jude's occasional shock therapy had something to do with your seizure. You don't have any past history of them on record and there's no other logical reason why. From now on, I'm strictly forbidding shock therapy from your treatment. You're welcome."

Lana sat up confused, "Wait. Talk therapy? For what?"

"Wow. Maybe I should get you off of those tranquilizers as well…."

"WHAT?" She inquired.

"Never mind that. But seriously, no more shock therapy. Doctor's orders." He chuckled. Oliver always laughed at this own little joke of his. "Anyways, we were doing this for your inversion."

"What inversion?" Lana had practically screamed.

"_Shh!_" He whispered as he leapt to cover her mouth with his hand, "Keep it down! If people hear that you believe that you don't have a problem, or that I don't believe that you have a problem, they'll kick me out of your treatment program in a heartbeat, let alone Briarcliff. Understand?" Lana nodded quickly.

_What? Did my brutal rapist suddenly turn into a saint with a scheme to shut a whole mental ward down? I'm supposed to write that exposé._ Lana's journalist jealousy began to settle in. But she soon began to remember that she had been committed here. So what could she do at this very moment?

She spoke softly, "So, Dr., remind me of this, _inversion_."

"You're a homosexual, right? Well, as much as I don't agree that it's clinically defined as a mental disorder, yet I don't agree with the lifestyle that a stunning woman such as yourself is choosing, homosexuality is still classified as such. That's why I'm here to help lead you to a path of self-righteousness."

"Oliver. I've been this way since I can remember."

"I know Lana; I'm trying to cure that."

She readjusted her tense position on the cot, "There is no cure."

Oliver retorted, "Well, from the way you and Wendy flaunted around town, people could surely testify on your behalf."

"Speaking of W, how is she? What is she doing while I'm here?" Lana grew uneasy, as the last time she asked Thredson about her love, he had told her that he was the one who killed Wendy.

"That's the thing…" Oliver almost twitched. He couldn't seem to spit out what he needed to tell her. "Wendy went missing. Nobody can seem to find her."


End file.
